Darkness of heart
by Sandra S
Summary: A snowstorm and an unexpected reunion with Webb set in motion a fatal train of events. Now Bud must live with the outcome. Somehow. COMPLETE
1. Hello again

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: This goes in line with my fic "One step too far" but both stories can be read as stand-alones.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"Ah, hello, Mr. Roberts. Please. Take a seat."

"Dr. Rossley. Thank you that you've found time for me at short notice."

"Not at all, Mr. Roberts. Whenever it's possible. So... You're coming directly from office?"

"Uhm, yes, I... How -?"

"The uniform. I've noticed because you usually don't wear it here."

"Oh. Oh, yes... I - I didn't have time to change... We've got plenty to do at the moment."

"No doubt. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? No?"

"Ah - no. Thank you. One more cup and I'll be awake all night."

"I see. Of course. But you don't mind if I have a cup, do you? Fine. Well, Mr. Roberts ... now. My assistant told me you sounded a bit upset on the phone."

"Uhm, yes. Probably."

"Well... You want to talk about it?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, sorry. I was just... Sorry."

"Take your time."

"I... When I called... Maybe I overreacted but... Harriet and I, we - had a fight this morning. I - I mean I don't know if you can actually call it a fight. An argument. A ... heated argument. More or less. About ... to be honest it was about something stupid. A glass with orange juice had shattered on the floor and... A-at one point I - I just wished she'd shut up and ... and ... then I... I..."

"Were you tempted to touch her?"

"No! No. I could never hurt my wife or children. But ... that's the problem, isn't it? I - I proved I could."

"Mr. Roberts... I think I'm not mistaken that right now we are not talking about the issues you have with your father? Mr. Roberts?"

"No... I... It was... No. I don't know."

"Mr. Roberts ... I've told you that our memory is a funny thing. It makes connections between seemingly unimportant little things, pictures, a meaningless sentence and something we experienced at some point in our life. Something that affected us deeply; sometimes pleasantly but unfortunately more often ... not."

"Yes, I - understand. You've explained that before. And I ... I think... I mean I thought about it throughout the day and maybe it was the juice ... being everywhere. It - Somehow it brought back..."

"The memory?"

"Yes."

"I see. Mr. Roberts ... if you don't mind I would like to take the time and recall the events of that day - those two days. I know we've done this before and more than once but I think it will be useful to put everything into perspective again."

"Mr. Roberts? Are you feeling uncomfortable with my suggestion?"

"To be honest I've felt uncomfortable with any of your suggestions since we started months ago but ... it always worked out."

"Well, thank you for that compliment. But you are doing most of the work."

"I know. I'm talking until my mouth is dry."

"That's right. So... why don't you start at the beginning? You were assigned to a case of misconduct..."

"Yes. Yes, five enlisted men on shore leave from two different ships had had trouble with each other in a supermarket. It ... didn't end well for the supermarket. My CO, JAG Cresswell, ordered me to have a look at the circumstances before an official Article 32 investigation would be scheduled. It was nothing extraordinary ... just standard procedure. I talked to witnesses to the incident and one of them happened to live in the mountains so I drove up to talk to him too."

"A drive of about three hours if I remember correctly? One way?"

"Uhm, yes, about that. Maybe four. Yes, I know I could have simply talked to him on the phone but ... well, I had a great teacher in Commander Rabb and he used to talk to witnesses face to face. To get the feel of the person, you know? And to be honest I was glad to escape office routine for a day."

"And ...?"

"All right, I wanted to be as thorough as possible. General Cresswell had been my commanding officer for only a couple of months at that time and I ... yes, I wanted to do my best. Prove myself. I'm an amputee, after all. Not that he had shown any indication that - that he didn't approve of my work but... Well. You know. And it wasn't very helpful that I had been on trial."

"I understand. Please. Continue."

"It was January. Two weeks after New Year. It had snowed quite a bit around that date but then most of it had melted again. The weather forecast predicted bad weather and falling temperatures for late afternoon of that day though; maybe a snowstorm. I went nevertheless because I thought I'd have more than enough time to be back in Washington before it got ugly ... unfortunately I was wrong. First it took much longer to find the house of my witness and then it took longer to interview him and maybe I should not have accepted this invitation to lunch. But his wife really made the best homemade bread I've ever eaten... However, when I started driving back it was much later than I had expected and this time the forecast had been right. The storm hadn't even started with full force yet but it was snowing heavily. And the road became dangerously icy as temperature dropped..."

* * *

**THE PAST**: January 2005

- Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains

Silently cursing himself, the weather, his bad luck and the worn out car he had got from the official JAG motor pool, Lieutenant Commander Bud Roberts peered through the windshield. Another gust of wind rocked the car and hammered wildly dancing snowflakes at the glass, covering it again within seconds after the windshield wipers had brushed down the last layer. Then the eerie silence of things that were to come in the night returned. It was barely three o'clock in the afternoon but nearly dark already, making it almost impossible to see the sides of the road or where it was leading. Thick, wet snowflakes came down around the car, giving the eyes no point to focus on. To make things worse, the light of the headlights reflected in them and reduced view even further.

Bud noticed an upcoming turn at the last possible moment and tentatively tipped on the brake. Despite his low speed he felt the car slip and swerve. New sweat formed on his forehead and his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. The car slowly made the turn and dug deeper into the moving wall of snow. He dared to breathe again.

"Jesus, I'll be so glad to reach the highway!"

And this was even a decent road with two lanes for traffic and not one of those narrow traps where one had to drive backwards for miles if another vehicle happened to come from the other direction! Just the thought made his mouth dry. He could clearly feel the car swimming on pure ice and remembered the streams and puddles of water he had seen across the asphalt on his drive up.

Something in the way the snow fell changed and Bud cast a look left and right. He got the impression of massive darkness to both sides of the road - forest again or at least some trees, providing a little shelter - before his gaze returned to the road. The next second he gasped terrified as a dark form grew suddenly out of the curtain of snow in front of the car, big eyes caught the light of the headlights. Involuntarily he stepped on the brake and jerked the steering wheel to the right.

The car drifted sideways as the wheels lost what little grip they had had on the ground. A sharp 'bang' seemed to come from the front then everything rocked and shook; metal groaned, snow hissed; the world tumbled to the side and came to an abrupt halt.

Silence.

Slowly Bud opened his eyes and inhaled shakily as at last his stomach settled back down too. The first thing he noticed was that the car was hanging in an awkward angle to the right side. The second that he was still clinging desperately to the useless steering wheel. Carefully he looked around.

It was darker than before. The right headlight of the car seemed to be shattered or at least buried in snow. It was rather hypnotic to watch one thick, graceful, feather light snowflake after the other come to rest on the windshield.

Bud shook his head. Trembling he loosened his seat belt and reached for the glove compartment. He breathed a sigh of relief when he really found a flashlight in it then a second one as it actually worked. The battery was rather low but still: it worked. Grabbing his overcoat from the passenger's seat he turned to the door. It took some effort to open it against gravity but he managed and finally climbed out on the road. In a far corner of his mind he noticed the disturbing tremor in his legs as he stood and struggled into his coat. Cold snow crept down his collar.

"Oh, dear." Bud involuntarily grimaced as he pointed the flashlight down the front of his car. The vehicle had skidded sideways into the road ditch. Its bottom was sitting on the ground while both wheels of the right side - and the side itself - were stuck at the lowest point. Dark water formed a sharp contrast to glittering broken ice and painfully white snow. "That's hopeless."

His own voice sounded muffled by the falling snow. The silence around him was complete except for the soft whisper of snowflakes settling on his shoulders or the ground. Too complete. Remembering the reason for the accident Bud turned and carefully followed the road back in the direction he had come from. Again he felt dangerous ice under the almost ankle-deep snow. But although he searched for more than ten minutes he found no trace of the deer. Sighing he gave up. He wasn't even sure if he had really hit the animal and anyway, he had no possibility to help the poor creature if it had fled back into the woods, wounded or not.

With chattering teeth he returned to the car, brushed off as much snow as possible and slipped back in. Bracing himself in the abnormal position of the seat he pulled out his cell phone and was greeted with the annoying beep of an empty battery - again. He cursed.

"Darn it! Not now! I knew I should have brought it to the shop yesterday instead of waiting."

Frustrated he stared at the windshield. Snow was covering it already in a thick layer. Hesitatingly he turned off the flashlight. It was better to save battery. Nevertheless he shivered in the sudden darkness because the headlights were blocked by snow now. Some minutes he contemplated if he could risk starting the engine but decided against it. He didn't smell gas but the tank or a part of the engine could still be damaged. The last thing he needed was the car going up in flames. Thinking about that it was maybe better to turn off the headlights too.

Dark minutes passed slowly. Cold crawled into the car. The soft sound of water lapping against the sunken side seemed to become louder and louder.

Bud turned up the collar of his coat and blew in his hands. He tried to consider his options. A hike in a snowstorm like this wasn't the wisest thing to do but as things were he would freeze to death in the night if he stayed here. Or not. Maybe the shelter of the car was enough as long as he was awake and moved a little every now and then. Maybe it wasn't. What was official advice on an accident like this? To stay with the car?

Darn it, this was a frequently used road under normal circumstances. It was only a matter of time until another car would come along. If someone was crazy enough to risk driving in this weather - like him. Great. He checked his watch. A quarter past four. At least two more hour until Harriet would get worried. And then? Had he told anybody the exact route he had planned on taking? Darn it. If he only knew how far it was to the next town, village or even house. And in which direction. He sank deeper into his coat.

At a quarter past five Bud couldn't bear it any longer and climbed out again. For some minutes he listened intently for a sound. Nothing. Turning back he realized with surprise how thick the layer of snow on the car had become although the wind had increased. It made him rather uncomfortable. What if he got snowed in so deep that he wouldn't be able to open the door in the morning? He cleaned the driver's side then stared at his wet sleeve and rolled his eyes upwards. Now that had been a brilliant idea.

He shivered in another gust of wind. A muffled sound came with it. Bud jumped and his heart started beating faster. He stared into the dancing snow. The sound died away, reappeared and grew stronger. Then dim light of snow-covered headlights filtered through the snowflakes.

"Hello! Hello!" Bud waved his flashlight frantically.

The strange car grew surprisingly fast out of the darkness, moving past him like a ghost. Wind and snow swallowed most of its sounds but snow chains jingled softly. For a terrifying moment he thought it wouldn't stop but then the tail lights colored the falling snow red as the driver finally stepped on the brake. Rolling smoothly through the white blanket the car finally came to a halt twenty feet down the road.

Bud muttered a silent thank you and waded forward. Despite his slow approach he had reached the rear of the car before the door at the driver's side opened and a dark shape climbed out.

"Hello! Oh, thank you so much for stopping," Bud shielded his eyes against the light that was pointed directly at his face. "I had an accident and my car landed in the ditch."

The person didn't answer for a moment, remained in a strange stance, holding the flashlight in both hands. Then the light suddenly wavered and was finally lowered.

"Roberts?"

The voice sounded familiar. Bud blinked and stepped closer. His jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Mister Webb?"

"What the heck, are you doing here, Roberts?"

The light danced up and down as Webb's right hand moved across his hip. And with a shock Bud realized that the agent was pocketing his weapon. Swallowing nervously he pointed over his shoulder.

"I... Witness... I ... visited a witness up there. Then had an accident on my drive home."

Webb turned his head and looked in the direction he was pointing. It was impossible to read his expression through snow and darkness. "Are you injured?"

"No, but the car is damaged. Maybe even an axel. I don't know if we-"

Webb interrupted him sharply. "I will not try and tow you out in this weather. You alone?"

"Uhm - yes."

"Then get in." Webb jerked his head towards his own car.

Bud looked over his shoulder and then back at the other man. He felt a bit overwhelmed. "Uh - all right. Just a second. I - I'll get my briefcase."

"Whatever."

Bud wasn't sure if he had really heard the last muttered word because the agent had already turned and slipped back into his seat. The door slammed shut.

Stumbling back through the snow he angled his briefcase from the back seat - a rather acrobatic task - locked the door and hurried toward the passenger's side of Webb's four-door car. The agent was drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. He was wearing one of his familiar three-piece suits and the heating was turned up. Bud sighed deeply as he slipped in and shut the door.

"Oh, this is heaven."

Webb stared at him in the fading interior light.

"I - I mean it's warm."

The agent snorted and turned the ignition. Despite the snow chains the wheels turned for a second without contact before gripping. Snowflakes twirled against the windshield as the car crept forward. Bud pulled off his gloves and leaned back in the seat. For a moment he stared down at the briefcase still on his lap and finally turned to shove it onto the back seat. He hit Webb's shoulder.

"Oh! God, I'm sorry!"

Webb huffed audibly. It was impossible to see in the dark but Bud felt clearly the annoyed look he got. He was glad about the darkness hiding his blushes. Blowing into his hands he remembered the seat belt and fumbled around to strap in. Tapping on his legs for a moment he unbuttoned his coat. Then he stole a quick glance at the man behind the steering wheel. Webb wasn't more than a dark shadow. Bud looked straight ahead again but soon his eyes wandered once more to the side. Reining himself in he turned to the side window. It was covered with snow. It was silent except for the wind, hitting the car in gusts of increasing force. The radio was turned off. Bud sneaked another glance at Webb.

"Roberts."

He jumped at Webb's voice. "W-what?"

"Stop that."


	2. Snowdrifts

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"You didn't feel comfortable in Mr. Webb's presence."

"Well..."

"Mr. Roberts, I don't have to remind you that I've got high level clearance from the government. And that we've got permission to talk about any issue you might have with Mr. Webb. Without exception."

"No, of course not."

"So?"

"No. I didn't. I mean ... we never got along well. I don't know why. Well, maybe I do. He snubbed me from the beginning and I was so annoyed by anything he did..."

"You were 'pushing each other's buttons' so to say."

"Exactly. It just happened to be that way. He was so - annoying. I never really liked him. Or understood him. He did things - offhandedly and in cold calculation - which hurt people. He put National Security above anything else. Including ... us. JAG. Our principles. On the other hand he could be almost nice. He brought me a pizza once. I mean in the end he wanted something in return nevertheless but ... he could have brought anything instead of making the effort and finding out what's my favorite. But he did. He was so terribly ... unpredictable. You never knew what you'd get."

"You don't like uncertainties."

"No. We talked about trust and about how important it is to have someone trustworthy and he was ... not. But the problem was he _WAS_ ... somehow. Until..."

"Until?"

"This mission in Paraguay. Everything changed afterwards. Commander Rabb didn't return to JAG and Colonel Mackenzie seemed to be glad about it. And when he finally _CAME_ back it was somewhat like living in a war zone because they didn't get along with each other and the admiral. It was a really uncomfortable year. And I guess somehow I ... blamed Mister Webb for that. It's kind of ridiculous considering it now."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, it wasn't Mister Webb who didn't bother to keep in touch after Paraguay, it was Commander Rabb. I was so worried about him, missed him but he never called. And it wasn't Mister Webb who kept his involvement with Colonel Mackenzie a secret, it was her. Almost up to a point where she lied directly into my face. He - he wasn't even around when they kept fighting and telling each other ugly things. He might have been the reason somehow but how can he be held responsible for the actions of two grown-up people who have eyes and brains of their own? Don't get me wrong, they are my friends, my mentors, godparents of my children and the people I trust most in this world besides my wife - but sometimes they can be so terribly ... oblivious to anything around them."

"For example how you felt seeing them fight."

"Yes. I felt so ... caught in the middle. Between a rock and a hard place. As if I had to choose between them and that was impossible. It was worse than the time Colonel Mackenzie had been engaged to Commander Brumby or those months after they had canceled the wedding. I mean I had _LIKED_ him - Mister Brumby - in a way. He could be good company. He even asked me to be his best man and that was a nice gesture."

"What was your opinion on Mr. Webb's involvement with the colonel?"

"Uhm - that it was ... strange? I suppose? I mean it was Mister Webb. But she knew it was Mister Webb too and if that was what she wanted how could I judge her? Besides I didn't hear much of it until it was over and even then it was forbidden territory so to speak. I ... didn't like it but I respected Colonel Mackenzie's wish for privacy."

"Hmm... Mr. Roberts, you agree that the fact that those two people who meant the most to you were no longer on speaking terms with Mr. Webb ... was a major factor why you felt uncomfortable in his presence?"

"Oh yes. I mean I didn't know how I was supposed to act around him..."

"Which behavior Colonel Mackenzie and Commander Rabb would approve of?"

"Yes and... I guess I felt a bit ... guilty. More than a bit actually."

"Guilty?"

"Well, Mister Webb had been reported dead and I... There had been so many things: Harriet's pregnancy, my promotion, Admiral Chegwidden's retirement and the workload that came with it... I - I somehow ... didn't pay that much attention. I mean you are supposed to pay attention when somebody you know dies, don't you? And I ... didn't."

"I see."

"And then ... _THIS_. I mean: I was there. _WE_ were there. And he had just sort of rescued me from a potentially dangerous situation. But still ... we - didn't get along very well."

* * *

**THE PAST**: January 2005

- Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains

"Wow, it's snowing really heavy now." Bud rubbed his palms over his thighs. "The wind has increased too."

No response. He wished he could turn on the radio to ease the chilly silence in the car. It was making him nervous. He risked another glance at Webb but the agent's eyes were glued to the road as he maneuvered the car carefully through the howling storm. Snowdrifts had started piling up. Sometimes the wheels almost got stuck but the next second the snow chains could rumble on pure ice. View was reduced to a few feet.

"Uhm ... what have you been doing up here?"

Webb's only answer was to exhale exaggeratedly.

"A private appointment or does - does the Agency have safe houses up here?"

If it was possible to _FEEL_ somebody roll his eyes Bud did now.

"Of course it's none of my business if you do..." he added quickly.

Another wall of moving snow twirled over the windshield and when it lifted a signpost suddenly appeared straight ahead in the light of the headlights. Involuntarily Bud stepped on a not existing brake just as Webb did the same. The barely creeping car came to a halt. For a moment they peered up at the sign. Then Webb moved the car a few feet back, turned the steering wheel to the left and accelerated carefully. Almost reluctantly the vehicle made the sharp turn and dug through another pile of snow. The engine roared up.

Bud frowned, looked over his shoulder and finally cleared his throat. "Ah - Mister Webb?"

"What?" Webb's voice was a low growl.

"To Washington would have been the ... other direction."

"I know that, Roberts."

"But then why...?"

Webb sighed desperately. "Look, we'll never make it in this storm and I have no intention of spending the night stuck in a snowdrift. We'll be lucky if we survive those six miles to the next village."

Bud shut his mouth. There was little to argue with that and the next hour proved that Webb could not have been more right. The car crawled and slipped, got stuck twice but somehow the spy was always able to free them for a new try. While the world was now entirely reduced to a sight of four feet the storm seemed adamant to push them off the road, making it difficult to keep the car under control. Bud wasn't surprised that Webb turned down the heating at one point. Heck, _HE_ felt sweat on his face and he wasn't even driving.

On top of that they almost missed the village or better would have driven right through it without noticing. But at the last moment Bud saw light through the snow and probably both of them prayed silently that there wasn't a road ditch anymore as Webb pulled the car to the side. The storm softened as they finally parked in the shelter of a building of unknown size where Webb turned the ignition off and his collar up.

"Move it, Roberts."

Shelter or not, the wind was strong enough to take Bud's breath away the moment he stumbled out of the car. Bracing himself against the wind he waded carefully through the snow towards the illuminated big window and the door beside it. A bell rang as he swung it open and Webb - hard on his heels - almost shoved him inside, leaning against the door to close it again. The second ring of the bell faded into wonderful silence now that the storm was shut out. Brushing snow off their clothes they looked around.

"Oh, wow." Involuntarily Bud smiled delightedly as he tucked his cover under his arm. "I didn't know something like this still exists."

They stood in one of those old little village stores where anybody could find anything and children would get some sweets for free. Shelves - stuffed with cookies, washing powder, soap, shoes, bottles with mineral water and kerosene - filled the right side of the room. A fridge hummed softly. To the left a counter ran along the wall where more shelves held smaller goods and formed something like a little bar at the back. A surprisingly fancy espresso-machine caught the eye. One of the high stools on the customers' side of the bar was occupied by a burly man with sandy hair, a short red and black checked coat, jeans and heavy boots who looked like he had just jumped out of some advertisement. If one ignored the traces of mud on his clothes.

"Hello." Bud offered a smile.

The man just gave them a rather unfriendly once-over. Luckily a door rattled before the situation could become embarrassing.

"Oh, gosh. So I really did hear the bell." A tall old man entered the back of the room. He fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses which he placed carefully on his nose. "Don't tell me you've been driving up here in this weather?"

Webb stepped past Bud. "Unfortunately we got caught in the storm, yes, Mister...?"

"Parker, Jack Parker. This is my store, has it been for nearly forty years now, yes. Oh, but that was very dangerous, driving in this weather I mean, really it was. You are from down at the coast, aren't you?"

"Yes," Webb acknowledged while Bud answered at the same time: "Washington."

He saw Webb's mouth tighten shortly and felt suddenly stupid and somewhat scolded.

The old man hadn't noticed. "Oh, Washington, I see. No, no, you would have never made it down there in this snow. There's a tricky turn some miles ahead..."

"Yes, we've noticed that on the drive up," Webb interrupted impatiently. "Clayton Webb and this is Lieutenant Roberts. We-"

"Lieutenant Commander," Bud corrected quickly.

Webb turned and stared at him with raised brows. His voice was like acid. "You've been promoted?"

Bud glared at him. But he swallowed his sharp reply because the old man had finally got behind the counter and nodded gently.

"Ah, so you are in the Navy, young man?"

"Judge Advocate General Corps, yes, sir."

"A damned lawyer," the man at the bar muttered with a sneer. He got up, pushed roughly past them and disappeared through the door. The bell jingled wildly.

Parker sighed. "Don't mind Stan's behavior. He's a stubborn, stubborn man, has always been. Got that from his father, yes, he did. Lives further up in the mountains normally but got caught in the snow too." He nodded at Bud. "So the Navy it is for you, young man, I see. My son joined the marines."

Bud smiled. "Really? Where is he stationed?"

"He died in Iraq." After this rather short statement the old man sighed again deeply. "Life goes where life goes. Only He knows his ways."

"Oh." Bud's smile had dropped from his face. "I - I'm really sorry, sir."

Webb broke the short uncomfortable silence that suddenly stretched in the room. "Can you recommend us any place to stay for the night?"

Once more Bud glared at the agent but the old man didn't seem to take umbrage at the abrupt change of subject. He pursed his lips.

"Well, normally I'd send you over to Tom and Jane because they have a little hotel just across the street. A lot of anglers and hunters stay with them in the season. But they are visiting their daughter at the moment. Vicky has just given birth to her second son and her husband must travel a lot. He's a sales representative."

Webb listened with a blank face although Bud sensed that he was inwardly stepping from one foot to the other. Parker continued as if he had all the time in the world. Maybe he had.

"Then there is Mary-Ann, she's got two rooms for tourists but she's living uphill and the road is steep I wouldn't send you up there in this snow. And her rooms tend to be very untidy - very untidy..." He scratched his chin and looked them up and down. "I don't know, I don't know, I must ask my wife but ... we've got a room upstairs. Our son and our daughter used to live there until they moved out. It might be a little bit cold because we don't turn up the heating for the upper floor to save some money..."

"I'm sure we can manage for one night, thank you," Webb interrupted hastily, clearly trying to stop the old man from going on and on.

"Yes, sir," Bud added quickly although not overly thrilled at the prospect of spending a night in the same room as Webb. "Thank you, sir."

"Not at all, not at all. You look like decent men and it's nice to have some guests every now and then. I'll go tell Beth then, yes, I will."

Webb turned to the door. "I've got a small bag outside in the car. Will be back in a minute."

That reminded Bud of something important. "I don't have anything with me. I really didn't expect to stay somewhere overnight..."

The old man smiled widely, showing bad teeth. "Oh, young man, that's no problem. Look, toothpaste is over there and pajamas should be right behind it."

Bud smiled back. "Thank you that will be helpful. But would you mind if I use your phone first? I've got to call my wife and tell her that I won't make it home tonight."

"Oh, I'm sorry, son. But the phone isn't working at the moment, no, it isn't. Beth was talking with her cousin this afternoon when the line went dead. The storm must have taken the cables down; it happens every now and then when the snow is as wet and heavy as this. The branches give way and the wind pushes them into the cables. It happens, yes, it does."

"Oh." Bud bit his lower lip. Harriet would be worried sick if he didn't call. If he had only taken his charger with him so he could load his battery... "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do..."

Webb had listened to the short exchange from the door with his hand already on the handle. Now he turned fully towards it - and paused again. For a second he seemed to stare grimly at his reflection in the dark glass. Then he suddenly rolled his eyes with an exasperated shake of his head and reached inside his jacket. Pulling out his cell phone he made two long strides back in the room, flipped it open, checked something, pushed some keys and thrust it none too gently into Bud's startled hands.

"You are _NOT_ supposed to answer any calls. Got me?"

With that he spun on his heels, jerked the door open and stormed out into the snowstorm, not waiting for an answer.


	3. Beds and blankets

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"Unpredictable."

"Totally. I mean he probably bent some rules when he let me use his 'official' cell phone. And I didn't even think of asking - not with the chilly atmosphere between us. Took me a long time to realize that he probably had as much difficulties in deciding how he should deal with me as I had the other way round. How he should handle my closeness to Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie."

"Hmm... You didn't tell Mr. Parker that you lost a leg in Afghanistan."

"No. How could I? The man lost his son. What's the loss of a part of my leg in comparison? No. Besides ... I normally consider it an advantage that people don't notice ... _IT_ immediately. Or that I can make them forget about it. They look at me and see a normal guy standing on his own two feet - and if I limp a little they think that I've sprained my ankle or something like that. It ... makes things easier."

"Because you don't have to face the looks or the different behavior most people show around a disabled person?"

"Yes, in a way. The only problem is: As soon as they notice, finally ... or remember again ... those looks hurt even more. It always ... takes you by surprise ... somehow. And most people are not even aware of what they do. Or how easily I can see and place this flicker across their faces."

"Mr. Roberts ... Mr. Webb had never visited you in hospital after your accident, had he? Or acknowledged your handicap in any other way?"

"No. God, I would have fallen out of bed in shock! I have no doubt he knew but we never had ... we never were ... besides, I don't even know where he was at that time. Here in the States or somewhere else on the globe."

"Nevertheless, a visit would have been a nice gesture."

"Yes. It would have been."

"You never visited him in hospital after Paraguay."

"Hmm, no. I guess there are some things both of us can't be very proud of."

"Let's continue with the events of that night. Mr. Parker had offered you a room and... Why are you laughing, Mr. Roberts?"

"Oh, I - I just thought ... I've said it makes things easier if people forget about my leg."

"Yes?"

"It certainly didn't this evening."

* * *

**THE PAST**: January 2005

- A little village in the Appalachian Mountains

Bud rinsed his newly purchased toothbrush and dropped it into the small bag that had come with it. Then he looked at himself in the mirror. The bathroom was tiny and old but as clean and well kept as the rest of the house. And while the rooms the Parker's lived in were smaller than the entire shop and the only part of the house that had two floors a feeling of 'home' seemed to seep out of any corner.

The evening hadn't been half as bad as expected so far. Of course, the old couple had done most of the conversation over the soup Mrs. Parker had prepared as an improvised dinner in their slow, long-winded way and neither Bud nor Webb had had any complaints about that. They wouldn't have known what to say to each other anyway. In fact it had been almost relaxing to sit and listen to the little dramas and stories going on in a small village like this.

Glancing into the sink to make sure he hadn't left a mess Bud put his uniform jacket back on and grabbed his bag. As he opened the door he found Webb standing in the small corridor and talking on his cell phone.

"... fine, yes, I'll call tomorrow as soon as- Yes. Yes. First thing." The spy hung up with a sigh and gave Bud a short look. "You're finally done? Parker wants to show us the room."

Bud bit back any sharp comment that Webb himself hadn't been that much faster in the bathroom and went to get his coat and briefcase from the kitchen. Parker and his wife looked up as he entered the room.

"Ah, young man, you are ready?" The old man started to rise. "Then I'll show you the bed as soon as your friend has finished his phone call. I just told Beth that maybe we should listen to our daughter and get one of those cell phones too. But she's right: maybe we're two too old fools for modern things like that, aren't we?"

"Why would you be too old for a cell phone, sir, ma'am?" Bud felt slightly uneasy about the reference to Webb as his 'friend'. "I'm sure you can find something suitable. And Mister Webb just hung up."

"Oh, good, good. Then let's go and get you in a warm bed, huh? Beth has put up some extra blankets for you; you are not used to our kind of weather, now are you? She has changed the linen too."

Huffing and puffing - although never stopping talking - Parker led the way to a door at the end of the small corridor and up a steep flight of stairs. Bud instantly regretted he hadn't put on his coat too as he started climbing behind Webb. The old man hadn't underestimated: It _WAS_ cold out here. He wouldn't have been surprised to see his own breath.

"... we have put some stuff up here, things we don't need every day, not any more, so it's maybe a little bit untidy." Parker finally reached the top of the stairs and waved his hand. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course we don't...," Webb paused for a second in the middle of his sentence and his step, almost causing Bud to bump into his back, "... mind."

"What is it?" Bud craned his neck. He gulped nervously as the spy moved out of his view.

There _WERE_ two beds in the room, actually. Two single beds. Two very small single beds. Unfortunately one of them including most of the floor was covered with old things from ragged suitcases over some indefinable metal objects to what seemed to be a stuffed fox. The second bed stood across the room with one of its long sides pushed against the wall so whoever got in first would be trapped by the second. Bud and Webb exchanged a look of slight horror.

"Well, yes, here we are." Unaware of their sudden discomfort the old man scratched his head. "I wish you a good night then, yes I do."

Their smiles were rather forced as they nodded in unison until Parker's head disappeared down the stairs. Then they looked at each other again. No one moved. Downstairs the door fell shut. Wood crackled as a gust of wind hit the roof. In the end it was Webb who pulled himself together first. Stepping up to a small table that had probably served as a desk a long time ago he dropped his things on it with a thud.

"You'll take the wall side of the bed."

"Why me?" Bud blurted out automatically.

Webb gave him a sore look. "You want to discuss it in detail?"

Bud opened his mouth and shut it again. He sighed silently. It wasn't worth it. Besides, it was way too cold. So he simply pulled a chair to the side and gritted his teeth as he undressed as fast as possible, practically jumping into his new pajamas. The daily evening routine of removing his prosthesis, placing it within arm's reach on the floor and checking his stump had become so much part of his live that he had even stopped thinking about it. It wasn't until he had settled under the blankets and looked up with a smirk on his lips that he remembered that it wasn't all that normal to anybody.

"Well, you want to go in second then you'll have to..."

He stopped. Webb was staring at him. An expression of - of what on his face? Shock? Disgust? Pity? Bud didn't need to ask to know what had caused this confusion in the other man's eyes. He swallowed hard and forced himself to finish his sentence.

"... to switch off the light."

Webb inhaled sharply and jerked his head away. For a second he stood rigid - obviously fighting his emotions or maybe to find the right words - but in the end he just turned and headed for the light switch.

Bud slowly unclenched his fists and moved closer to the wall. In the darkness he heard the quick patter of Webb's bare feet on the wooden floor, the soft sound as his hands felt over the bed and was surprised by the sharp stab in the pit of his stomach as he sensed the short pause before the other man crawled under the covers. The old bed groaned and crackled while they tried to arrange in the narrow space without too much physical contact. Any other time the fight for the blankets would have been funny but it wasn't now. A short moment of silence followed. Then Webb sighed annoyed.

"Can't you move closer to the wall? I'm hanging with one shoulder out of bed!"

"I am already_ PINNED_ to the wall!" Bud's voice showed all his frustration. "And you are taking the entire blanket."

Again they rustled around, tucking in blankets wherever possible and somehow ended up back to back. The room fell silent again. Although it was a silence filled with the angry howl of the wind outside, the soft sound of snow flinging against the windows and the crackling of wood.

Bud stared into the darkness where the wall had to be. Webb's back was very still against his and he pictured the agent staring out into the dark room to the other side. He suddenly wished Harriet were here.

He missed her. Missed the way her hand would run through his hair just before they would go to sleep. Missed to feel her growing belly under his hands when he said good night to their two unborn children. Sometimes he really wondered what he had done to deserve her. Closing his eyes he recalled their short conversation on the phone, her gentle concern, her assurance that they would be all right. Strange - he hadn't told her that it was Webb who had picked him up in the snow as he realized now. Somehow he had forgotten to mention it. But she had taken the phone to the boys so they had been able to wish him a good night... Smiling he sank deeper under the blankets.

Glass rattled from time to time under the force of the wind. A deep howl kept moving around the house. Bud was dimly aware that he drifted into and out of sleep. The body beside his offered comfortable warmth, reminded him of Harriet's sleeping form at his side. The weather followed him into his dreams where he was on the Seahawk again, rolling hard in the sea, and tried to type something on his computer but the letters kept disappearing no matter how often he wrote them down. Cold jerked him half awake because most of the blankets were gone and he pulled on them causing a muffled complaint. At one point he thought he heard gentle snoring in the beginning silence of a softening storm but wasn't able to decide if it was he or not. He drifted off again, dreaming some weird dream. It had something to do with snow and big eyes full of light staring at him. For a while he tossed and turned without really waking up until he was elbowed in the side. Then he fell back into a peaceful sleep.

Something heavy was pushed around in some distance.

Bud groaned softly. "Hmmm, AJ stop it." He heard Harriet growl barely audible words in a deep voice.

The sound continued.

Bud - used to the morning activities of two lively boys although he wondered in some far corner of his mind what piece of furniture they shoved around this time - rolled over and snuggled closer to the warm body at his side. But he definitely _WASN'T_ used to the way this body jumped as his stump bumped against a thigh ... and the sudden draft of chilly air as the person shot up in bed with a gasp woke him completely.

"Wha-what? Harriet?"

Jerking his eyes open Bud found a sleep tousled but very awake Clayton Webb staring down at him in the grey light that filled the room now. The silence between them was deadly for a second. He felt his cheeks starting to burn.

"Mister - Mister Webb..."

"Roberts - I..."

They stopped at the same time. Looking anywhere but at each other. Finally Webb rubbed his suspiciously dark face with both hands, muttered a muffled "oh, boy" and scrambled out of bed. Bud sat up slowly as the spy peered out of the next window, hugging himself against the cold.

"That - was a snowplow."

"Oh." Bud fiddled with the blanket.

Webb glanced pointedly at his watch and reached for his clothes. He didn't look back. "Almost half past seven. I'll go and check the car."

"Yeah, I'm - I'm coming."

Bud took a deep breath and threw back the blankets. By the time he was tucking his shirt in the other man already walked towards the stairs. And although he was concentrating firmly on his fingers he knew instantly that Webb had paused in front of the first step. Gulping nervously he lifted his head.

Their eyes met.

Then Webb pressed his lips together and walked downstairs. Sitting back for a moment Bud ran a hand through his hair and sighed.


	4. You never know

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"You were not offended by Mister Webb's open uneasiness at your appearance?"

"At that moment I was too embarrassed. I had confused him with Harriet!"

"But nevertheless it can't be easy to be confronted with such behavior. And you mentioned you were hurt when he stared at you after you had removed your prosthesis."

"It always hurts. As I said: It's not always good when people forget. But ... he was obviously a good deal embarrassed himself that he had reacted like that. Especially in the morning. And to be honest..."

"Yes?"

"At that point it had been two and a half years since I had stepped on that landmine. I had had a lot of time to come to terms with my injury and its consequences. And that was hard enough. There were days I didn't even want to look at my leg ... and days I couldn't tear my eyes away. It wasn't easy for me - or Harriet, my friends - to handle such a ... major change in my life. Some did it better some ... not so well."

"You're thinking of your father."

"Yes. Yes. But what I wanted to say was ... Mister Webb wasn't the first person who didn't know how to deal with my handicap and he will not be the last. Besides ... I know that before I lost my leg ... the thought of spending a night in the same bed as an amputee would have been scaring. Of course that's totally ridiculous - it - it isn't infectious or something like that but ... it's true. And I think there are few people who can honestly deny having a similar feeling - at least at first. I was just lucky to have a family - and friends - who learned very quickly."

"So ... what happened next?"

"Well, it turned out the Parker's were already up but we postponed breakfast and dug the car out first. It had snowed more than two feet in the night - where the snow wasn't piled up - and although Mister Webb had cleared a first path by the time I had finished in the bathroom it took almost an hour to free it completely and clean the windows from ice."

"Did you try to talk to Mr. Webb about what had happened?"

"No. I mean he was still ... Mister Webb. We had never been good at talking with each other. And those other problems - JAG and the colonel and the commander - still existed."

"You had breakfast in the store before you started back to Washington, hadn't you?"

"Yes. The Parker's open early. And I must say that espresso-machine was really good."

* * *

**THE PAST**: January 2005

- The little village in the Appalachian Mountains

"You want another cup, young man?"

"No, thank you, Mrs. Parker - Beth. It's really good but no." Bud smiled at the old woman. But they had already paid for the night and he was getting eager to go. A feeling Webb seemed to share, considering the way he was tapping on the counter.

"Yes, one of the few things I actually agree with my daughter. And you wouldn't believe how many people here stop by just for a cup of cappuccino or latte macchiato or whatever these terrible strange names might be. Ah - there is Jack, finally. Jack, you know these young men want to go back to their families. What on earth took you so long?"

"I've been younger before, Beth, now haven't I?" Parker grumbled good-naturedly as he stamped snow off his boots before coming in. "I've talked to Ted, young man, and everything is settled, yes, it is. He will tow your car as soon as possible and bring it to the address you've given that's no problem, not at all. He loves driving around in his trucks."

"Oh, thank you, that's great." Bud sighed relieved.

"But Ted has talked to Eddy - Eddy drives the snowplow, you know," continued Parker, shaking his head, "- and Eddy said the road down to Washington is blocked by a tree. It happens very often in winter, doesn't it, Beth, and Ted said that Eddy said that they will not be able to start clearing it before noon. They've got to get the right tools and -"

"Oh, Jack Parker, come to the point!" interrupted Beth Parker impatiently; just in time to make Webb and Bud shut their mouths again. She smiled at them. "Don't worry; if you don't want to wait until the direct road is free you can take the longer way to the other side. It's very easy: You follow the road uphill and turn right at the second crossing. Then drive simply straight ahead into the next village. From there you can follow the signs. Just take care in the turns; they are very narrow sometimes."

"Thank you, we'll do that." Webb got up from his chair and put his long overcoat on.

Bud quickly did the same and extended his hand. "Yes, thank you again."

"Not at all, not at all. It was nice to have some guests."

The bell above the door jingled one last time as they left their safe haven and walked over to the car. Halfway there Webb's cell phone rang. Bud just rolled his eyes and got into the passenger's seat while the agent took the call. It was chilly inside and he closed his coat a bit higher. The next second Webb slipped behind the steering wheel and shoved his cell in the middle section of the dashboard. A Jeep(TM) drove by just as he put on some gloves.

"Isn't that this strange man we saw in the store yesterday?" Bud bent forward and caught the dark look the sandy-haired driver was giving them. "He doesn't seem to be in better mood this morning."

"Does it matter?" Webb maneuvered carefully into the path of the snowplow and accelerated behind the other car. He fiddled around with the heating because the windshield steamed up.

Sighing inwardly Bud turned and looked out of the window. The last houses of the village stayed behind and they drove through a real winter wonderland under an immaculate blue sky. Snow was hanging in thick layers in trees and bushes, covered the ground like a soft blanket, glittering almost painfully in the bright sunlight.

"Can you get me my sunglasses from the glove compartment?"

Bud started slightly at Webb's abrupt question.

"Sure. Wait ... here."

"Thanks."

Webb picked the glasses out of Bud's hand without taking his eyes off the road ahead and the back of the Jeep(TM), still driving in front of them. They made the first switchbacks into the forest. On one occasion Bud looked up in time to get a glimpse at the driver, glaring back down at them. Then the other car accelerated hard - and rather dangerously considering the condition of the road - and the distance grew. He shook his head. That was really some ill-tempered fellow.

Several minutes passed in silence. The heating was now working at full capacity and both men opened their coats. Webb pulled his gloves off. After about half an hour they reached the first crossing the Parker's had mentioned and headed further up. High trees covered the slope that started to flatten out a bit. The other car finally disappeared from sight. Some more turns and the road crossed a clearing. Its snow-covered bushes looked like a gathering of snowmen. Bud glanced at Webb as the first trees came nearer.

"How long will it take to get to Washington? What do you mean?"

"I've got no idea."

"Well, Harriet should have called in by now and reported that I landed in the ditch but it would be nice if we-"

A small hole appeared in the windshield with a sharp crack, immediately followed by a second one. Bud involuntarily cried out as the car swerved for a second due to Webb's surprised jerk and skidded along the high snow to the right. Everything shook wildly back and forth then came to an abrupt halt. Bud blinked confused as a third hole accompanied the first two in the glass.

"_DOWN_! _GET DOWN_!"

Webb practically leaped sideways into Bud's lap, grabbed the younger man's collar and pulled with all his strength. And just as Bud's face hit Webb's hip he finally made the connection between the holes and the harsh sound of a hunting rifle echoing across the snow.

"Oh God!"

Bud tried to duck deeper as a forth bullet pierced the windshield and went into the driver's seat just above his head. Webb shoved and hammered at the right door but found it blocked by snow. He cursed violently, working blindly to unfasten their seat belts at the same time.

"Open my door! Roberts! Open my door! We must get out of here!"

A fifth shot. Bud fumbled with trembling fingers at the handle of the driver's door until it finally sprang open. Kicking against it Webb scrambled backwards, somehow made it out of the car and cowered behind the thin metal. A bullet cracked the window. Bud pushed forward, Webb pulled and together they half crawled, half jumped towards the back of the car and rolled behind it. A shot zinged off the side, missing them by inches. Gasping they ducked against the rear bumper.

"So that's the reason why you're up here? Someone's trying to kill you?" Bud screamed almost hysterically.

"No! I don't know! Roberts, I didn't know this could happen!" Webb pulled out his weapon and patted frantically over his pockets. Suddenly a look of horror was on his face. "Darn it!"

Bud's eyes shot towards the car. He saw again Webb shoving his cell phone in the dashboard and groaned. "And now?"

Webb gritted his teeth and poked his head around the corner. "Maybe I can-" A shot hit the car with a sharp bang and he jerked back. Bud grabbed his arm and pulled him down.

"Watch it!" He blinked and stared, his eyes growing wide. "W-what is that?"

Webb followed his gaze and swallowed hard. Carefully he picked at the cut in his right sleeve just below the shoulder. His fingertips showed no trace of blood.

"Must have been one of the first shots." His voice shook slightly. About as much as Bud's hands. For a moment they just looked at each other, both aware how close it had been. Then Webb turned abruptly and sat back against the car.

After hesitating for a split second Bud did the same. He took a deep calming breath. It was quiet now that the shooting had stopped. Almost peaceful. The cover of ice and snow on the road they had come up sparkled in the sunlight. Involuntarily one waited for a sleigh with happily jingling bells. Bud shook his head at his own ridiculous thoughts. At his side Webb suddenly narrowed his eyes and pointed down the road.

"You see those bushes over there? To the right? Leading to the edge of the forest?"

"Yes?"

"It's no real shelter but at least we would be out of sight for most of the distance from the road to the trees. A moving target is harder to hit anyway; here we are not more than sitting ducks. What do you think, can you get there if I give you cover?" Webb glanced at the younger man and actually blushed. "I mean ... uhm ... can you run? Walk fast?"

Bud stared at the bushes and the wide open road that led towards them. Ten yards. Right now they looked like ten miles. He gulped. But before he could say anything a sharp call cut through the air.

"HEY! HEY, DOWN THERE!"

They tensed and moved closer to the back of the car, holding their breath. Quickly the echo of the shout died away to silence. Bud didn't dare more than whisper.

"You know who this is? Or why he's trying to kill you?"

Webb snorted. "I didn't even know the threat against my life is up again. I thought it was settled - as much as things like that can ever be settled."

"'As much as things like that can ever be settled'?"

"Listen, Bud-"

"HEY! HEY, NAVY! AT A LOSS FOR WORDS?"

They stared at each other in bewilderment. "Navy?" mouthed Webb incredulously. Bud just shook his head in wide-eyed confusion.

"WHAT IS IT, NAVY? YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU'D GET ME THAT EASY? THAT I WOULDN'T NOTICE HOW YOU FOLLOWED ME? STUPID, NAVY, REALLY STUPID!"

Webb glared at Bud then drew in a deep breath. "LISTEN, WHOEVER YOU ARE, THIS IS A MISUNDERSTANDING! WE WERE JUST TRYING TO GET HOME! THE OTHER ROAD TO WASHINGTON IS BLOCKED WE WERE NOT FOLLOWING YOU!"

The stranger laughed. "YEAH, SURE! YOU JUST WALKED IN ON ME IN PARKER'S STORE, DIDN'T YOU? NCIS IN CIVVIES AND A LIEUTENANT COMMANDER LAWYER! BY COINCIDENCE! HOW DID YOU FIND ME AFTER ALL THESE YEARS?"

"Roberts, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No! I don't know what he means I haven't heard of any other cases up here!"

Webb rolled his eyes and huffed. He got to his knees. "LOOK ... STAN ... WE'VE GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU! I'M NOT NCIS! I'M NOT EVEN IN THE NAVY! AND ROBERTS IS WORKING ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CASE! WE GOT STUCK IN THE SNOW AND THAT'S ALL!" He took a breath. "NOTHING HAS HAPPENED SO FAR. WHY - WHY DON'T WE JUST GO IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS AND FORGET ABOUT IT?"

Silence.

"STAN?" Webb called again then cursed and looked around hectically. "Darn it, he's moving! Go! _GO!_"

Bud suddenly found himself jerked to his feet and reacted blindly to the shove he got, took off down the road in a clumsy gallop. Fear and adrenalin made him move faster than ever after the loss of his leg. In his back Webb's gun barked rapidly. Bud didn't know if the other man had seen movement or if it was just an attempt to force their attacker down to the ground. He whirled his arms even wilder through the air and if it was by sheer luck or the help of some guardian angel ... he not once stumbled or slipped until he reached the bushes. And absolutely inappropriate the thought popped into his head that Commander Turner would be very proud of him now.

A new round of shots erupted and involuntarily he looked back as he turned and jumped into the snow, seeing Webb still standing by the car, aiming uphill. The next second he landed flat on his face as the deep snow caught hold of him like thousand tentacles. Cursing Bud struggled with hands and feet, rowed forward in the white mass to reach at least the treacherous shelter of the first bush. Pushing back up he started wading through the knee-deep snow... But within the first steps he felt the dreaded twist of his prosthesis and cried out in pain, almost falling again.

"No! God, no!"

The pain of the wrong pressure against his stump flashed through his entire body as he struggled to get on. He heard more shots from Webb, suddenly mixed with the unmistakable sharp cracking of the rifle and tried to hobble forward on one foot, dragging his right leg behind. It was impossible. A dead grip closed around his elbow and he gasped terrified.

"Bud! You're hit?"

"No - no!" He almost sobbed with frustration and relief. "My prosthesis ... shifted..."

Webb hissed a curse. In one fluid motion he shoved his gun in a pocket and pulled Bud's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his own around the younger man's waist. But their legs were trapped in the heavy wet snow, causing them to sway dangerously. Open fear was in Webb's eyes as he looked back.

"Can't you fix the damn thing?"

"Not without-" Bud lost his balance and clung to Webb's coat, dragging him down with him, "-letting my pants down."

A bullet whizzed through the bushes and they ducked although it missed them by far.

"Oh, for heaven's - get on my back!"

"W-what?"

"Damn it, Roberts!"

Bud gulped and threw his arms around Webb's neck, pulling himself up. He felt the other man's hands hook under his knees or what was left of them, his effort to keep upright in the hindering snow. The distance to the safety of the trees seemed endless. Pulling one leg out, then the other, then the first again Webb struggled slowly forward. Within seconds his breath was coming in short labored gasps. Another shot. Bud involuntarily cowered tighter against Webb's shoulders. His heart seemed to miss a beat. The spy coughed breathlessly.

"Don't - strangle - me - will - you?"

The next moment he sunk in over his knees and all Bud could do was to hang on for dear life. He felt his shoes dragging over and through the white surface. Finally shifting his grip he prayed silently the prosthesis would stay on as Webb fought to escape the cold trap, plowed through the snow, nearer to the bushes. How he managed to move at all was inexplicable to Bud. Precious seconds ticked by until Webb had finally crossed the snowdrift and stamped on in stubborn resolve. Bud tried to make himself as light as possible. He didn't dare to look over his shoulder but his back muscles tensed in fearful anticipation. And suddenly the trees were within arm's reach.

Webb sounded ready to collapse at any second now but lowered his head and pushed blindly into the snow-covered branches. Snow rained down on them, crept into their collars. Small branches whipped across their faces although Bud held out an arm to shield them. Webb's feet got caught in something on the ground and he went down on his knees. His groan mingled with Bud's hiss of pain as the prosthesis bumped against his stump. The bullet that would have hit him squarely in the back otherwise went unnoticed over their heads.

Staggering back up Webb somehow continued to force a way through the first line of bushes and lower trees. A thick branch almost swept Bud off his back, scratching their skin. More ice showered down then they were through and Webb stumbled again as the resistance suddenly vanished. Old leaves, dry and frozen, crunched loudly under his wet shoes. The high trees had kept off much of the storm last night and the snow on the ground wasn't more than mere two hands high. Suddenly walking was almost easy in comparison with the clearing. Shoving Bud a tiny bit higher up his back Webb stamped a good deal downhill more than once skidding and nearly falling. In a flat hollow he finally came to a trembling halt.

Shakily Bud dropped down to the ground and hopped as good as possible on his left foot. Glancing worriedly at Webb - who had ripped his coat open and rested his hands on his knees, gasping for air - and back up at the edge of the forest he fumbled with numb fingers at his belt, cursing helplessly.

"Goddamn thing, now go...!"

Finally the buckle gave way and he shoved his pants down, ignoring the chilly temperature. His fingers slipped on the shaft of his prosthetic right leg. Entangled in his clothes and the snow it refused to move. He cursed again, wobbling dangerously and suddenly Webb was kneeling in front of him, still panting hard.

"Here - let me - how-?"

There was no hesitation in Webb's hands now as they pulled and shoved together at the uncooperative prosthesis. Bud dug his nails in the other man's shoulder. A sharp jerk. Involuntarily he breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure against his stump returned to normal. Webb was already roughly wiggling his pants back up.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon!"

Zipping his pants with flying fingers Bud stumbled forward. Branches cracked under his boots. Webb's hand had closed around his arm, half supporting him, half dragging him through the snow. He glanced hectically over his shoulder. Stumbling and sliding they hurried deeper between the trees and downhill.


	5. Actions and consequences

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"Mr. Roberts? Mr. Roberts."

"Yes, I - I'm here... I ... just need a second."

"I know it's hard but I want you to continue."

"I..."

"Please, Mr. Roberts. Tell me what happened next. You had fixed your prosthesis and hurried downhill? What happened then?"

"We - just kept moving ... stumbling is more like it ... the snow was hiding branches and holes... We - we just tried to bring as much distance between us and - and the rifle as possible. We ... crossed the road and kept going ... waited for the next shots... But - they didn't come."

"But there were more shots, weren't there?"

"Yes. Oh, yes..."

"Mr. Roberts, are you still with me?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, I was... I just realized... It's - it's kind of funny, you know?"

"What, Mr. Roberts?"

"That ... all these years we - I, Commander Rabb, even Colonel Mackenzie ... have been so engrossed in our own problems and needs that somehow we missed that ... Mister Webb was a man who had to battle his own demons. And eventually lost."

* * *

**THE PAST**: January 2005

- Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains

"Did we lose him?" Bud gasped for air. He had got a stitch and pressed his hand against his ribcage in a useless attempt to soothe the pain.

"Don't - know- _DAMN_!"

The echo of a shot rolled downhill. Before it faded completely they had dived into the snow behind the next tree. Webb nearly knocked Bud's head to the ground as he worked frantically to free his gun from his pocket. A second shot shattered the silence. They scrambled closer to the rough bark.

Seconds passed. A minute. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Webb leaned carefully to the side and risked a glance around the tree. Everything was silent. He furrowed his brows.

"Something's wrong."

Bud looked up at Webb's muttered remark.

"What do you mean?"

"It was too far away. What was he shooting at?"

"Maybe he confused us with something else?"

"That would be almost too much to ask for... Wait! You hear that?"

"A car." Bud felt a sudden stab of hope but it died quickly as the sound grew stronger. "It's coming downhill."

The distant sound of the engine rose and fell. It passed slowly above them, faded, circled around, got louder. Without a word they stood and changed to the other side of the tree, peering carefully around both sides. Through the high trunks they caught glimpses at the moving silhouette of the Jeep(TM) barely fifteen yards below their position. Bud stole a glance to the side as he heard Webb cock his gun. The agent was following the progress of the creeping car with intense concentration. For a second metal and glass reflected the sun and Bud thought he made out the face of their pursuer. They didn't move. The sound went on, slowly, started fading again ... and was suddenly gone. Too suddenly.

"Did he-" Bud had to clear his throat before he was able to continue in a whisper. "Did he take the next turn ... or has he stopped?"

Webb's eyes were glued to the spot where they had seen the car last. His voice was barely audible. "I'm not sure."

They listened to the quiet of a lonely winter forest, trying to catch any sound. Nothing but their own ragged breathing, overly loud in the silence. Finally Bud shook his head, the lawyer in him gaining the upper hand.

"Why should he drive away? There's no sense in that. He gave too much away; we know his name, can describe him. He simply can't allow us to talk to the police."

"He must have seen our footprints where we crossed the road."

"You think he is waiting for us? That he was checking if we had crossed the road a second time?"

Webb indicated a grim nod.

Bud swallowed. "Can we make it back uphill? To our car and your cell phone? What?"

Webb had groaned softly. "Darn it. I guess I know what he shot at."

Realization hit Bud like a slap in the face. "The tires."

"If he's smart he's searched the car before that." Webb narrowed his eyes. "Either destroyed my cell or simply threw it out in the snow - impossible to find it there."

They glanced at each other.

"He took a rather long time," observed Bud reluctantly. "Even if he followed us first and then returned to his car..."

"Yeah."

"And if we want to make sure, we'd have to stay on the road. Otherwise I'll pull my prosthesis off again. The - the damn thing simply isn't made for deep snow." He swallowed dryly. "Of course I could wait between the trees ... you'd be able to move more freely without me anyway..."

"No. Last thing I need is to shoot you by mistake." Webb sighed to take the edge off his stinging words. "I don't like the idea of being in open terrain again. And even if we try to escape uphill the Parker's didn't mention any houses near the second crossing. Heaven only knows how far it is to the village they described."

"And if we just wait for a car? Eventually someone _HAS_ to come up here."

"Where? The forest isn't thick enough to hide properly. Besides..."

Involuntarily they turned both and looked back the way they had come and at their footsteps: A clear, rough violation of the virgin snow. A track impossible to miss even for inexperienced eyes. Looking away Bud nodded in bitter acceptance.

"So it's downhill?"

"Downhill," Webb confirmed slowly. He checked his small automatic, took the magazine out and grimaced. "Five bullets." He rammed the magazine back in. "We better not get into another gunfight."

Bud felt a cold shiver down his spine.

They continued their way much more careful and slower than before. In silent agreement Webb started to cross the slope to the right, away from the direction the car had been driving in. It meant that they would have to get over the road a second time but seemed to be the lower risk nevertheless. The crunch of their feet on the snow seemed very loud. At first sight, the wooded ground looked plain and monotonous but reality was very different. It was the blanket of snow that betrayed the eye, coating small elevations and hollows and merging them into one another. Whenever a branch cracked sharply under their steps they tensed nervously.

Looking around anxiously Bud tugged at his coat. Although they moved almost faster than could be considered safe he was getting cold. Physical exercise of their wild flight, adrenalin and panic had made him sweaty. Now that he had calmed down a bit he started to feel his damp clothes clinging to his skin. Sneaking a glance at Webb he caught the other man rubbing his arms. Of course. If he was slightly wet the spy had to be literally soaked through and through. And if his own throbbing legs were any indication then Webb's muscles had to be painful knots.

In dead silence they crossed the road in its turn, slipping on ice they hadn't even noticed in their car. Their nerves were strained to the utmost. Minute after minute passed. Dividing his attention between their surroundings and his feet Webb aimed a bit more to the side in order to avoid the road from now on. But at the same time they didn't dare to leave the curved band too far out of sight. It was their only point of orientation in a forest where every tree somehow looked the same - and the thought of getting lost wasn't quite amusing.

They had just climbed down a short, steep part of the slope when they spotted the car. And because they were almost sitting anyway they simply remained there, holding their breath.

Again the loneliness of the forest overwhelmed them. The Jeep(TM) sat innocently in the snow beside the path the snowplow had cleared on the road, halfway between two turns. Its front was pointing at them and the driver's side hung over the slope. As hard as they looked around nowhere was a trace of the dreaded red coat or any movement at all.

Bud shifted uneasily as he watched Webb's eyes wander back and forth between the car, the road and the wooded slope. The agent's face was hard as he pressed his lips together.

"Damn, damn, damn." He was muttering more to himself than Bud. "Even if we slip past him now ... as soon as he picks up our track he'll drive further down and start searching again. And if we avoid him a second time he'll just repeat this little game."

For a second his gaze flickered down at Bud's legs. There was no need to explain. They knew both all too well that any clearing - more so - any place with deeper snow would slow them down or be an impassable barrier. And Bud was more than aware that he was too heavy to be carried for long under these conditions. Glancing at the car he felt his stomach tighten as he understood Webb's train of thought.

"Would he ... be stupid enough to leave his keys in the car?"

"That's the least of my worries. When push comes to shove I'll hotwire the damn thing."

"You can hotwire a car?"

Webb shot Bud's raised eyebrows a sore look before turning away. "If we are lucky he decided to check the opposite turn first to make sure we didn't pass there."

Bud would have liked to slap himself. He took a deep breath. "If he did then we are wasting precious time."

Without an answer Webb got to his feet and stood there for a heartbeat, slightly ducked. Gripping his gun faster he gave Bud a quick nod. They hurried across the snow, no longer pausing in the cover of trees. Again there was a ditch along the side of the road to catch any water coming downhill. But in addition the slope got steeper the nearer they got to the car and in the end they were forced to step on the open road, endless fifteen yards in front of the Jeep(TM). Involuntarily hunching their shoulders they quickened their pace. Their eyes darted from left to right and back again. Twelve yards. Ten. Eight.

"Nice try, Navy!"

The sharp voice stopped them short. Bud's panic-stricken gaze flew to Webb who squeezed his eyes shut and mouthed a silent curse. Very slowly he turned his arms outwards and removed his finger from the trigger, showing any action very clearly. Bud swallowed and lifted his trembling hands at shoulder height.

"Put the gun down," came the harsh command.

Webb's lips were pressed tightly together but he shifted his thumb, secured his gun. Moving painfully slow he took a step back, bent his knees and placed the weapon carefully on the ground. Equally slow he stood back up.

"This is not necessary." His voice was of deadly calm. "It's still not too late to stop this."

"Yeah, sure." A sarcastic snort completed the angry spat. "God, I can't believe you came hunting for me after all these years! I would have thought the Navy's got more important things to do."

"Stan." Webb started turning slowly. Bud closed his eyes for a second then followed his example. "We didn't come after you. We didn't come after anybody. I already told you this is a misunderstanding."

Finally they were face to face with the sandy-haired man. How or where he had been hiding was beyond them but there he was, standing right behind them on the road not more than a few steps away. Instead of the hunting rifle he was aiming a shotgun with two barrels at them - just as dangerous at this short distance. A strange, almost desperate determination was on his face as he stared at Webb.

"Misunderstanding? You really think I'm stupid! _MISUNDERSTANDING_! How did you find me? Who tipped you off?"

"Nobody tipped us off," Bud said quickly as he saw the man's hands tighten around his weapon. Webb stood rigid. "Please! He's telling you the truth. We are _NOT_ here because of you. We are not your enemies. Whatever you have done, there has to be a way to-"

"Shut up!" Something unpredictable flickered in the burly man's eyes as he took two steps forward. "You! Kick your gun over here! Now!"

"OK, OK." Webb showed his palms in a soothing gesture. For a heartbeat his eyes darted over to Bud. "Keep cool. There is no reason to do something you'll later regret."

He placed one foot behind his gun and gave it a shove. Too gentle. Turning slowly around itself the weapon skidded a few steps over the icy surface, moving slightly to the side. It ended up right between Bud and the sandy-haired man.

"Very funny!"

Webb shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry, I've never had a thing for soccer."

And Bud caught his second glance. His heart jumped into his throat. Making a step he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: "It's all right, no problem, I've got it covered!" and kicked against the gun, sending it towards the burly man. And the split second the man's eyes - and the shotgun - involuntarily turned in his direction Webb lunged forward.

He hit his adversary the very moment he jerked the shotgun back around and pulled the trigger, knocking the barrels to the side. A shot went off in the woods. The next second the weapon was wrenched out of their hands as they fell hard and Webb suddenly found himself pinned to the ground by a man who had at least ten pounds on him. For a heartbeat they rolled, fighting tooth and nail and with the same desperate strength, none giving a damn about fair play until Webb somehow twisted a knee up and threw the other man off.

They pushed up in the same motion - and an invisible hand jerked Webb back down, knocking the wind out of him for a second. The shocked realization that he had stepped on his own coat was a crystalline, frozen drop in time as he saw the burly man's hand dive into his clothes, pulling at something, _PULLING_ at something, his face a wild grimace, and instinctively threw himself around, jumped, leaped desperately for his own gun. He landed too short, flat on his stomach but his outstretched hand was over it, closed around it and he brought it with him as he rolled on his back, the large .45 the other man finally freed from his coat filling his entire vision. They cocked the weapons in the same heartbeat, aiming -

The blast of the shotgun was deafening.

Webb blinked as the burly man was suddenly gone, hurled off his feet and into the deep snow beside the road. But at that time he was already moving - reacting without any coherent thought - got to his feet, made two long strides, gun firmly raised with both hands. His eyes darted over the fallen man and the ground around him, not for one second giving up his aim until he spotted the hole in the snow almost three yards away where the .45 had landed. Then - and only then - he turned slightly and stared at Bud who stood still frozen in shock. The smoking shotgun clasped in his hands.

For a very long moment nobody moved.

Then Webb abruptly turned his head away and finally lowered his gun, secured it. Tucking the weapon under his coat he waded into the snow and bent over the lying man.

"Can you hear me? Stan?" Wide, glassy eyes followed his movements in passive confusion as he patted roughly over the man's pockets. "You've got a cell? Maybe _MY_ cell?" He pulled out some car keys and threw them in Bud's direction. They landed on the road. "Go and look if there's a first-aid kit in the car. And for a cell phone."

Bud just kept staring, stunned, still trying to comprehend what had happened. A first almost questioning moan escaped Stan's lips. Webb's head snapped up.

"Bud!"

Jumping Bud dropped the shotgun as if it had burned his fingers. He grabbed the keys, turned and stumbled to the car, slipping on ice and snow. Fumbling with the lock he dropped the keys, picked them up, dropped them a second time before he was able to open the passenger's door. Inside the car wasn't what he had expected. It was ... tidy. No dust or dirt. A little water and mud in the legroom but it was winter, after all. It smelled clean too. No cold smoke. No alcohol. Not even sweat just a hint of wet clothes.

Giving himself a shake Bud reached for the glove compartment. Things tumbled to the floor as he rummaged through it. His hands started trembling and he clenched his fists, fighting for control. He hurried to the back. There everything was neatly fixed and well kept too. Two empty places for guns. An ammunition box that could be secured with a heavy padlock. A big first-aid kit strapped to the side. He ripped it out and limped back over the road.

"Here! There was no cell phone but I found this..." He held out the opened kit. "How - how bad is it?"

Webb didn't bother with an answer as he looked up from where he was kneeling in the snow just gestured for Bud to come closer. He had bunched up Stan's coat and was pressing it against the man's side as hard as he could. A barely audible whimper was floating through the quiet air. Peering into the kit Webb rifled quickly through its contents with one hand, snatched up a package of antiseptic dressing and used his teeth to rip it open. As he peeled the coat down Bud's stomach turned.

"Oh - God-" Quickly he looked away, gulping rapidly. Something on the road caught his attention and his eyes widened. Tiny red dots were scattered all over the white surface. They seemed to grow as he stared at them in shock. Tearing his eyes away he gritted his teeth for a second, took deep calming breaths and tried to pull himself together. Tried to ignore the gut-wrenching fear he felt building deep inside.

"What - what can I do? Drive down to the village and - and get help? Or can we - can we transport him? Please, what can I do?"

Webb finished bundling everything up and leaned forward, applying as much pressure as possible on his improvised compress. Then he lifted his head and looked at Bud. His face was bare any expression. He knew how this was going to end. And as he dropped his gaze back down at the wounded man he could see the same knowledge in the pain-filled eyes staring back at him. One of Stan's hands moved aimlessly over the snow like a small, frightened animal. Reaching out Webb took it in his own with surprising gentleness.

"Go and wait in the car, Bud."

"But I - I- There has to-"

"_GO AND WAIT IN THE CAR!_"

Bud fled. Stumbled back to the car, climbed in the passenger's seat and slammed the door, threw the keys on the seat to the left, stared blankly at the dashboard. The glove compartment was still open and in a daze he started scooping things up from the floor and shoving them inside. He got more and more agitated as they kept falling back out and finally just crumpled everything in with brute force, slamming the compartment shut. His own ragged breathing filled the air as his heart hammered in his chest.

Outside Webb slowly got to his feet.

Bud started shaking violently; a feeling of overwhelming disorientation swept over him. His teeth chattered as he kept his eyes desperately glued to the dashboard. But he couldn't help seeing on the edge of his vision how Webb stepped back on the road. He couldn't help seeing how he bent down and scooped up some snow...

Bile rose in Bud's throat and he swallowed desperately again and again. The world started spinning and he squeezed his eyes shut, refused to open them again until he heard the driver's door and then felt the car tip as Webb climbed in. A cold he would never have thought possible closed around him. But he still had to ask, had to know because a tiny part of him was hoping so violently that it wasn't true, that it - this - wasn't real...

"Is - is he - is he dead?"

Webb paused before he slammed the door shut, considering him for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then he nodded once.

Bud closed his eyes again. The cold inside of him was chilling. "Oh - oh - no..."

"Bud..." Interrupting himself Webb pressed his lips together. He bent forward and put the key in the ignition but sat back again without turning it, staring through the windshield. Finally he sighed. "Bud, I know this is not making it easier but ... you saved my life. That guy was armed for a war. He would have killed me. He would have killed us if he had had any chance to."

Bud just clasped his hands tighter in his lap. Too numb to think. It was as if he was suddenly watching himself from a distance, everything blurry and dull and unreal. Only from far away he heard the engine start and then felt the car move as Webb maneuvered it carefully downhill.

"I didn't want that." He barely whispered. "I didn't want that to happen."

The car shook slightly as Webb took another turn and accelerated a bit.

"It happened so fast. It - it happened all so fast. I never - I never thought... I simply never considered... Oh, God. I didn't ... expect I'd ever..." Bud rubbed his hands over his face. He tried to slow his breathing. His analytic mind clung desperately to the shattered pieces of his world as the words spilled out of him. "Damn it, I'm in the Navy or not? I should have - I should have been prepared ... that something like that could happen some day. I - I mean I know Commander Rabb has killed - as a pilot and face to face and he's - he's doing fine. Colonel Mackenzie did it too and she handled it. Admiral Chegwidden even was a SEAL on combat missions..."

Webb's gaze was concentrated on the road ahead. Bud swallowed and forced almost a laugh. Almost. It sounded more like a shuddering sob. He felt strangely light-headed.

"Oh, I'm - I'm sorry. Who am I talking to? Of course you know everything about that. I'm - I'm sure you have too... Sometime... And I'm sure you've seen a lot and you have never - never made such a fuss like I do now. You must - you must be thinking I'm a pathetic baby." He nodded encouragingly to himself, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm - fine. I'm fine. I was - I was a shipboard JAG; I had to make d-decisions - and I l-learned to live with them... So - it's all right. I can handle it. No problem. I'm - I'm getting over it-"

"_I HOPE YOU NEVER GET OVER IT!_" The car skidded to a halt as Webb slammed on the brakes, stalling the engine in the process. His eyes were blazing. "I hope you never stop feeling like this! I hope you never forget! I hope you never look down at the pain and fear of a dying man and feel _NOTHING_!"

Bud stared at him in shock.

Webb's knuckles had turned white from the force of his grip around the steering wheel. Pain and desperate anger was in his eyes as he continued bitterly: "I hope you always remember that there are _LIVES_ behind nameless figures and that you're never able to sacrifice them with nothing but a shrug! It makes you less human if you do. It - it makes you less human."

And all Bud could come up with was: "Is - is this what has happened to you?"

Webb exhaled slowly and dropped his head, closing his eyes for a second. Agony almost too intense to look at flickered across his face. Then he looked out of the windshield again and reached for the ignition. His voice was suddenly very tired.

"You ask too many questions, Bud."


	6. Aftermath

Disclaimer: JAG belongs to DPB, Paramount, CBS et al. This is for fun, no copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**THE PRESENT **

"I killed a man. The evening before my biggest concern had been if I had hit a deer with my car and the next day I ended up shooting a man."

"A man who was about to kill Mr. Webb. And most probably you too afterwards."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was self-defense. That's what the damn police report says, it is stated in our internal JAG investigation, heck, even the media would probably have come to the same conclusion... If the story hadn't been suppressed as good as possible due to Mister Webb's involvement. _SELF-DEFENSE_. Anybody keeps telling me and keeps telling me that! Commander Rabb, Colonel Mackenzie, Jennifer, Harriet, Mikey... As if it would make any difference. It doesn't. It ... happened so fast I - I can't even remember if I shouted first. I - I could have shot in the air or aimed for a leg or... Maybe Mister Webb would have been able to safe himself anyway."

"Mr. Webb made very clear - on both occasions he joined us - that there is quite a possibility that he would not have been able to avoid a bullet even if he had shot first."

"The point is that he was talking about a possibility. He was there. He knows what happened, how it happened, he can't deny the facts. And it doesn't matter anyway. Stan Covet had deserted from the Navy _TWELFE YEARS_ ago. It was me, my uniform that set him off. I... If I had been more careful, I would not have had this accident and Mister Webb wouldn't have picked me up. We would never have entered that store together. More so, if I hadn't wasted so much time with this witness, I would have been back in Washington long before the snowstorm started. If I had simply called instead of driving up, I would never have been anywhere near this region. If I hadn't wanted to prove myself, nothing of all this would ever have happened."

"If."

"If, yes. I guess you want to tell me that I can't change the past."

"Nobody can, Mr. Roberts. Do you remember what I told you when we started our sessions?"

"There are no general answers."

"No, there are not. Mr. Roberts, this is not about JAG. This is not about duty or politics or even this country. This is not about what other people might think of you or your actions or what might be best for them. This is about you and you alone. Nothing else. It is good that you feel this regret. I would be concerned if you didn't. But it's equally important that you acknowledge that Mr. Covet tried to kill you - and Mr. Webb - at any cost. No matter for what reasons. He waited for you on the clearing. He came after you when you escaped. He purposefully searched for you with the intention to finish what he had started. Neither you nor Mr. Webb expected that he could cross the slope below his own car and not above it. That's why he was able to see you first and hide until you were in a position to his advantage."

"I know that. I know all of that. But ... it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the guilt. He's dead. And I'm the one responsible for it. I - I took a life! And sometimes I don't know how to live with that. It's - it's been more than six months now and sometimes it still hurts so much I can't ... sleep, can't get the pictures out of my head, can't ... bear anybody around me because they don't understand that I ... lost something the very moment I pulled the trigger. Call it my innocence, call it ... I don't know what. I just know I'm not scared because I don't think I can ever touch a weapon again. I'm scared of the thought that I ... could."

"Are you still considering leaving the Navy?"

"Yes... Isn't it ironic? I fought so hard to get back to full duty after the loss of my leg. I was so ... ridiculously proud when I was promoted to lieutenant commander nevertheless. And now ..."

"Mr. Roberts ... again ... you are not in a regular unit you are a lawyer. From what I heard a very good one. And whenever we talked about your work at JAG headquarters I could see how much it still means to you."

"It does. That's what makes this so hard. I mean all right, it's rather unlikely they give me an assignment near a combat zone and ... yes, I - I love the courtroom, working with clients, helping my colleagues with research... All - all my friends are there but sometimes I just feel ... so alone. Too many things have changed. _I_ have changed and the people around me seem to have more problems with it now than they had when I lost my leg. They try. I can see that they try. But some things ... I just can't tell them. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"It needs time. For the people around you as much as for yourself. As you've said it's been more than six months but this isn't a long time for human memory when one has been so deeply affected by something. It's up to you but I can only recommend not to hurry into decisions at this point. Besides ... doing his duty and having a conscience should never exclude one another."

"Time. Patience. Where have I heard that before? No, no, don't worry I know you're right. In more that one point. And I didn't forget that I have to consider very carefully the rather prosaic financial aspect of any decision I make. I mean I've got to provide for a family with four children now."

"Of course. How are they by the way? I hope fine?"

"Oh, yes. The children are doing great and Harriet's fine too... Well, except every now and then when I just drop everything, turn on my heel and storm out without any explanation. As I did today. I really don't know what I would do without her constant support and encouragement ... we've been through so much over the years. But still - sometimes I think even she can't understand why I have so many problems dealing with ... what happened. And somehow I'm just not able to explain why ... it's sometimes easier to be the victim."

"You've got a really unique personality, Mr. Roberts, you know that?"

"I'm - sorry?"

"Nothing. Mr. Roberts, for good measure ... would you please continue and tell me what else happened that day? After Mr. Webb's outburst?"

"There was little we could do than keep going. Just ... keep going. We met a car shortly after the crossing and the driver had a cell phone with him. Mister Webb handled everything. Within a few hours the whole slope was swarming with rangers, police officers, pathologists... They actually found his cell in the snow of the clearing because someone had the glorious idea to call his number and follow the ringing. The tracks they found were pretty conclusive - as were the bullet holes in Mister Webb's car. Nevertheless, we had to answer question after question and then they drove us down to the next bigger town and there we had to answer more questions... I - I thought I would go insane. Part of me ... just wanted to crawl under a blanket and wait until I woke up from this nightmare ... another part knew that this was no solution. That I could not run away from my responsibility. Then, at one point, I looked up and Commander Turner stepped into the room. The police had called General Cresswell - in fact Mister Webb had insisted - and he had sent the commander up."

"Commander Turner. Not Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie."

"Yes. Against their sharp protest. Commander Rabb even went as far as to confront the general in the middle of the bullpen; pointing out that it was in the best tradition of the Navy to stand up for their men and that - with all due respect - he had a right to go because he was my friend... And Cresswell told him right to the face that it was exactly this emotional involvement that would represent the Navy ill in this matter. I can almost see the scene in front of my eyes; Petty Officer Coates really has a way of narrating this kind of things."

"There was a time you didn't get along well with Commander Turner, wasn't there? How did you feel about the fact that it was him?"

"In a way ... I was glad. Yes, we had had problems but we left them behind and ... like that it was less ... personal for me as if it had been with Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie. And to be honest I don't know what would have happened if it had been one of them ... or both. I don't want to know how they would have reacted to Mister Webb's presence. I - I don't think I'd have been able to handle ... the explosion if they had met. I think neither of us would have been. Commander Turner barely knew him and was at least willing to listen first and then form an opinion."

"You think Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie wouldn't have done that?"

"Considering the circumstances the last time they had seen each other? Or his job?_ I_ had blamed him instantly. Heck, _HE_ had blamed _HIMSELF_ without a second thought!"

"I see."

"And ... you know, maybe the general was right, in retrospect. Commander Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie ... they would have tried to protect me. And for some people it could have looked like the Navy was trying to ... sweep things under the carpet. I mean a fight for jurisdiction was already bound to be although we only concluded at this time that Covet was a deserter so... Yes, Commander Turner probably had the cooler head to handle this ... more diplomatically."

"Mr. Roberts, I know this question sounds ridiculous but I want you to think about it and answer nevertheless: How do you feel now?"

"Like ... smashed by a rock? More or less? But - at the same time I feel ... better. Not good but ... better. Somehow. I guess you were right. Again. This ... hurt but ... yes, it put some things back into perspective."

"Then I think this is a good point to stop for today. Was that a sigh of relief?"

"Uhm, sorry, it's just..."

"No need to apologize. There's just one thing I want you to do when you get home, Mr. Roberts. Tell your wife you've been here. She deserves to know."

"Yes. Yes. I will do that. You know ... I really want to be with them now. Harriet. The children."

"Then I suggest you go to them. Have a safe drive home."

"Thank you. And Dr. Rossley ... thank you again that you had time for me."

"As I said that's no problem, Mr. Roberts."

* * *

**THE PRESENT**: August 2005

- In front of the Roberts' house

Bud slowed down in the driveway and brought the car to a gentle stop. Then he just sat there for a while after turning off the ignition, staring at his hands in his lap. He felt drained, almost physically exhausted as always after a session. But it was true: at the same time he felt ... relieved. The haunting memories were once more shooed back into their dark corner, banished for the moment although still lurking in the shadows. As they would still do for a long time.

Finally lifting his head and looking at the house he felt his lips curl up in a smile. Whatever had happened, whatever he had to deal with, it was good to have this place to come home to. Especially after a day like this. Quickly he unfastened the seat belt and climbed out of the car.

He was still smiling as he took the steps to the porch but frowned slightly at the first sounds of a familiar noise, opened the door ... and was greeted by several voices screaming at the top of their lungs and from different directions. Bud sighed. Oh, well.

Routinely categorizing and weighing the intensities he decided to ignore the high-pitched wail from the kitchen for the time being (definitely the twins in need of fresh diapers) and headed for the bathroom first. He wasn't sure but there he thought to make out Harriet's voice despite the howls of his two boys.

The first thing he saw, poking his head in, was Jimmy's tearstained face, sitting on the toilet seat with a minor scratch on his knee. Second was AJ - face equally wet but also angry and tugging agitated at his mother's arm - insisting feverishly that _IT HADN'T BEEN HIS FAULT_ - normally the best sign that it had _INDEED_ been. And third Harriet turning her head and giving her husband an exhausted smile, shouting something through the noise. Bud only understood the word kitchen but - being an experienced father of four by now - nodded reassuringly, gestured in the direction he was going to take and smiled back. Harriet started calling again but then gave up with a shrug.

Walking across the corridor Bud almost tripped over some toys, more or less stumbled into the kitchen ... and stopped dead in his tracks.

Clayton Webb stood rigidly near the table - probably in the very spot where Harriet had shoved one of the screaming twins into his arms - and looked helplessly back and forth between this wailing bundle and the howling second twin in the baby carriage Harriet preferred to use in the house instead of carrying seats. The question "How on earth have I _GOTTEN_ into this situation?" clearly written all over his face.

* * *

- The Roberts' house, a bit later

"I'm sorry you got sucked into in our little chaos." Bud closed the door to the porch from outside and turned around with a small sigh. The twins were changed and peaceful again, Jimmy consoled with some ice cream and AJ sent to his room to think about why it was _NOT_ acceptable to push his little brother even if he dared to touch one of his beloved toy cars. He followed Webb downstairs. "Usually it isn't as bad as that."

The agent shrugged nonchalantly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll live." He glanced a bit incredulously back at the house. "Is Harriet handling this all alone?"

"Oh, there's day care, kindergarten... And some high-school teens always want to make pocket money with babysitting."

They started sauntering down the driveway. Bud noticed the short once-over Webb gave him out of the corner of his eye.

"So... How are you doing, Bud?"

"What can I say? There are good days and bad days." Bud made a little face. "Today was a bad day."

Webb glanced at him then looked away again. "You OK?"

"It's better now." Bud sighed. "I'm glad you gave me Dr. Rossley's address."

"A good psychiatrist."

"Yes."

They walked a few yards in silence, involuntarily falling into step. Bud studied his toes and crossed his arms.

"What about you? Are you-"

He quickly swallowed the rest of his sentence and blushed. But Webb had already picked up on the meaning.

"If I'm seeing someone too?"

"Oh, I - I'm sorry. I didn't want to-"

"Yes."

Bud gaped. Webb looked at him and laughed out at his shocked expression. It changed his entire face. But the next second he grew serious again. Tilting his head back he considered the sky, a deep blue now that the sun was setting.

"I figured ... it's about time to get some things straight again." A bitter smile played around the corner of his mouth as he snorted and dropped his gaze. "As far as possible, anyway."

Bud closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't know what to say. Looking around the front garden of his house - a bike was laying by the big tree where it definitely shouldn't be - he took a deep breath.

"Harriet- Harriet and I will host a barbecue next week. Some people from the office, some parents from friends of the boys and of course the friends themselves to keep the children occupied..." He bit his lips. "I - we wondered if... Maybe you've got time?"

Webb didn't respond until they had almost reached the gate.

"The office, huh?"

"Yes."

"Harm and ... Mac?"

"Yes..."

Webb sighed softly and shook his head. "Better not."

Bud didn't argue. But not for the first time he wished things were different.

They turned into the street and after a few more steps stood in front of Webb's car. Bud frowned, not only because he hadn't noticed the convertible before.

"Why did you park out here?"

Pulling his keys out Webb shrugged the question off. "Old habit I guess."

Bud watched him silently as he walked around the vehicle and unlocked the door. Six months ago he would have missed the hidden signs. Six months ago he would not have cared to see them. Six months ago a lot of things had been different.

"Mister Webb? Are you all right?"

Webb froze. His eyes flickered over to Bud and quickly away again. For a second it seemed as if he was starting to say something but instead exhaled and pressed his lips together. Resting one arm on the open door and the other on the roof he stared blindly down the street. Then suddenly he laughed strangely and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

"No. No, I'm not." Looking down he shrugged. "Bud, to be honest I stopped by because I ... I wanted to ask you and Harriet if - if you'd mind if I ... buy your children a present every now and then. Not - not often, of course, and nothing big or fancy or something you wouldn't approve of and - and they don't need to know it's from me and... If - if you don't want that it's perfectly all right, really. I'll understand. It's... it's just ... something I'd like to do. From time to time."

He fell silent and as Bud considered his bowed head he remembered the first time the world had come crashing down on him after the events of January.

He hadn't told anybody. Not Commander Rabb, not Colonel Mackenzie or Coates or Harriet. And the sessions with Dr. Rossley had just started. So he went into a filthy little bar and had a couple of beers and the same number of shots of something much stronger. And somewhere on the way he had called the Webb estate because it was the only thing he could find in the torn telephone book, babbling something that he didn't know how Webb was able to stand it. When the strange man who had answered the phone asked for his name Bud had realized that he was making a fool out of himself and hung up, returning to his sulking over a drink. Fifty minutes later Webb had walked in. As it turned out the man had told Porter Webb, Porter Webb had hunted down her son who had quickly made the right conclusion and started searching any bar along the way from JAG headquarters to the Roberts' home. But instead of giving Bud a lecture that alcohol wasn't a solution - as Commander Rabb probably and Colonel Mackenzie for sure would have done - the agent had bought a bottle of Scotch, led the younger man to a secluded table and had helped him completing his task of getting as drunk as possible. It ended with the first real alcohol-induced blackout Bud had ever had and a monstrous headache the next morning when an angry, upset and worried Harriet had described loudly how a slightly drunk but still coherent Webb and a taxi driver had dropped him off onto the couch. Of the enraged slap she had given the agent he had learned weeks later and only because Harriet let it slip. Webb never mentioned it.

"Mister Webb..." Bud had to stop and search for the best words. "I don't think there's any child in this world that doesn't love presents and mine are certainly no exception. Just give us a short call so you won't buy anything they already have."

Webb slowly nodded once, took a deep breath then nodded a second time. Looking up he gave Bud a ghost of a smile.

"Why don't you drop the mister, Bud."

For a long moment they looked at each other across the roof of the convertible. Then Webb slipped almost hastily behind the steering wheel and started the engine.

Bud followed the car with his eyes as it pulled out into the street and sped up.

He had called Webb three more times over the past months ... and the other man always came. It never went to the extent of the first evening. In fact they sometimes sat and stared silently into one and the same drink for hours. Webb listened patiently whenever Bud wanted to talk. He never offered solutions. He never gave advice Bud was not interested in at that moment. He never tried to make things better. But somehow Bud always drew strength and comfort from his silent presence. Maybe because it was the presence of another battered soul.

Bud sighed deeply and finally turned away from the car that had long since disappeared from sight. Slowly he started walking back to the house.

Yes, sometimes he couldn't help but wonder what - or maybe who - was responsible for the dark abyss normally so carefully hidden behind Webb's eyes. Not that he would ever ask. Not that he would ever get an answer if he did. But while Webb was restrained by too many secrets to talk openly about most of his troubles - although he did talk about Theresa Marcello once, the beautiful terrorist he had shot to save a friend - Bud still got the impression that he, too, found some peace when they were together.

Sighing again Bud lifted his head as he reached the steps to the porch and found Harriet waiting for him in silence, watching his slow approach. Her gaze wandered down the driveway.

"He already had to go? I just wanted to ask you two if I can bring you something to drink."

Bud paused halfway up the stairs and looked over his shoulder as if he could still see the convertible despite the distance. Or the man who had become a strange kind of friend.

"Yes, he had to go." He took the last steps. "I invited him to the barbecue but he said no."

Harriet nodded then lifted one hand and gently touched her husband's hair. Her smile was sad.

"It's probably better this way, Bud. For anybody."

"I know."

But the knowledge was bitter. Not only that there were now parts of his life he had to keep secret from his friends at JAG. Everything concerning Webb would only confuse them or - even worse - cause them pain. Other things would only bring them into conflict with their role as superiors ... going to a bar with his troubles was definitely not the supposed behavior for officers no matter how seldom or under what circumstances. But while Bud was sure Webb would continue to listen silently to anything he wanted to talk about he also knew that it wasn't fair to mention his friends in front of him. Nobody could change the past. No matter how much one wanted to.

"Bud?"

Harriet's soft question shook him out of his dark thoughts. For a long heartbeat he just looked at her before he finally closed the gap between their bodies and wrapped his arms around her, putting his head on her shoulder.

"I went to Dr. Rossley today."

And Harriet - with the silent understanding people sometimes have - simply embraced him back.

* * *

The end.

* * *

Author's note: A really big, fat thank you for your reviews.  
Sorry it took me so long to finish this but my time is a bit limited at the moment.


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